Page 80 of Third Time Lucky

Chapter Thirteen

Joey

Steam is still drifting from the open bathroom door as I study the hotel room decorated for seduction. Mine in particular. For the most part, it looks like any other luxury suite. King-sized bed, a desk and a sitting area with a large flat screen and generic art on the wall.

It also has a silver bucket filled with ice for the few cans of orange soda we got from the vending machine before I showered. The bowl of tangerines and strawberries dipped in chocolate are new. But the bottle of lube and a box of condoms we stopped to purchase have been left on the bed, in case there was any doubt about what’s about to happen here.

This is thoughtful. And cute. Baby goat videos and singing to your daughter on the phone cute. Hookups don’t usually go to this much trouble.

You know this is more than that.

That’s why I’m doing this. I want to experience it. I think Elliot is the only man I have a chance to feel that kind of “more” with.

I took a detour for a shower as soon as we got here, needing a few minutes alone to get my mind as right as my body was ready. And to deal with my hair situation.

No lying on the honesty train.

But not even soaking my head and listing all the ways this could go wrong has made a difference. This is happening. I need this to happen.

His attempt at romance is doing things to my insides. I swear I would give swooning a shot if it weren’t for the erection tenting my towel. Wouldn’t want to break anything.

“You’ve been busy.” There’s a tickle in my throat. That’s why I sound like this. That’s all.

Elliot looks up from the strawberries, his ears red again. I want to lick him. “This was the smallest fruit they had on hand.”

He remembered the basket, the kumquats, and tried to replicate it.

Be chill, my heart. “You didn’t have to order anything. You could have gotten a pizza, but you did this instead. It’s nice.”

“Pizza isn’t on the menu until noon.” He crosses his arms, openly staring at my chest. I don’t think he’s ever seen me without a shirt before. “I wanted to get something. It’s a hotel room. When you’ve seen a hundred, you’ve seen them all. I thought if I ordered a few things you liked… I didn’t want you to feel like this doesn’t matter.”

It hits me that most of his previous hookups probably happened on the road. In a hotel room. He wants to make this one special.

He’s nervous.

Ignoring my pup-tent problem, I move to nonchalantly sit on the bed and reach for a soda, popping the tab and enjoying the sound of escaping carbonation. “This reminds me of what I imagine prom night felt like for my brother Craig. You know, the baseball fan of the family? His experience was the definition of cliché. He and his future wife had reserved a hotel room months in advance, talking about it nonstop. How glad they were that they waited. How special it would be. It was such a big buildup, we stopped calling it prom and started referring to it as Craig’s First Time. The night my brothers left the house, looking like a row of penguins marching to their doom, Craig was already so green I wasn’t sure he’d survive it.”

The bed dips as Elliot sits down next to me, the tension visibly disappearing from his shoulders. He takes the drink out of my hand and has some for himself. “Did he? Survive it?”

I smirk and shake my head. “It was bad. He got drunk. She cried. She fell in the bathroom while washing off her smudged mascara and tore her very expensive dress. He actually sprained something before they got to third base, the first time we learned that was possible. And then they broke up for five of the longest days of my family’s life.”

He takes that in, along with another sip of my soda. “You said your brothers went to the prom. You didn’t?”

“Tani and I were boycotting.” I grin at the memory. “More out of convenience than moral outrage, since I was babysitting a sick toddler at the time and her parents had told her that the only way she could go would be if her brother was her date and her father waited outside in the car.”

He frowns at that until I nudge his shoulder with mine. “That isn’t the point of our story. The real moral is that overthinking hotel sex can lead to a sprained penis.”

His unexpected laughter bends him over and I grab the can back, drinking while the warm sound washes over me. When he turns his head my way, lopsided smile in place and green eyes heating as they skim my barely covered body, awareness kicks in again.

“I want to touch you,” he admits, his voice making me shiver.

Yes. Please. Everything. Why isn’t it happening already?“What’s stopping you?”

His sets our communal can on the dresser and drops to his knees in front of me.

I think my heart took a break for a second. “What are you doing?”

His neck is flushed, his breath changing as he studies my body, both hands on my thighs at the edge of my towel. “I need to know you’re sure about this. I don’t want you to feel pressured. And the things I want to do to you are new for me.”

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